


Anything You Want

by FrameofMind



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrameofMind/pseuds/FrameofMind
Summary: Kame has always been a bit high strung, but lately he’s acting… strange.
Relationships: Akanishi Jin/Kamenashi Kazuya
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	Anything You Want

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Anything You Want  
**Author:** FrameofMind  
**Pairing:** Akame  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Genre:** Romance/Drama/Humor  
**Word Count:** ~17,500  
**Beta By:** Jo_Lasalle  
**Summary:** Kame has always been a bit high strung, but lately he’s acting… strange.  
**Author’s Notes:** This story was originally started as a potential PT Pirates entry a few years ago (written for Haikuesque, with a general prompt of “write us tropes!!!”)—but it ran into complications, and I ended up going with another idea for that round. Now I’ve revived this piece from the cutting room floor and completed it with a little less time pressure.
> 
> Many thanks to Jo_Lasalle for helping me shine this up—hope you all enjoy! : )

“You’re doing it wrong,” Kame snaps.

Jin looks up from his chair, fingers tangled in the laces of his sneaker to find Kame hovering over him. He’s got that sour look on his face again, like Jin is the stupidest creature on the planet.

“I can tie my own shoes, thanks,” he says. And no, he doesn’t actually need that little imploring look from Nakamaru through the neckhole of his sweater, or the ominous glance exchanged between Koki and Ueda to know it’s a bad idea. _Just don’t answer_, they keep telling him. _You’re only rising to the bait._

It’s sound advice. But it’s really fucking irritating.

And it’s easy for them to say, when they’re not the ones who have to put up with the random digs every ten minutes. Jin isn’t going to sit here like a chump and be Kame’s punching bag just because he’s having a bad day. Or… a bad week, or whatever.

Kame is adjusting the collar of his jacket, and his hair looks damp and messy and a little sticky, like he didn’t quite get all the product out when he was in the shower. “Suit yourself,” he says, turning back to the mirror and running fingers roughly through his hair to shake it out. “If you want to buy another set of 20,000 yen laces.”

“I’m getting shit from _you_ about what things cost?”

“At least I _notice_ what it costs.”

Jin stares at him in the mirror. “What does that even mean?”

Kame makes a disdainful noise through his teeth and ignores him. Goes back to fiddling with his hair, which just gets spikier the longer he tugs at it.

Perfect.

It’s been like this all week. First it was that thing about the lunch Kame ordered at the Popolo interview, when he didn’t get his second side dish and it was somehow Jin’s fault. Then it was the microphones in the studio on Tuesday—he nearly broke one yanking it down from where it had been set to Jin’s height, and that wasn’t even the one he was supposed to be _using_. Somehow, Jin ended up apologizing to the sound recordist. Today it just seems to be everything—every move Jin makes is somehow wrong, every expression on his face is somehow insulting.

Jin doesn’t even know what the fuck they’re fighting about—and whatever, sometimes Kame is just a prissy little bitch. But usually at least he spreads it around a little. Lately every time his mouth opens, poison pours out, and for some unknown reason it’s _all_ directed at Jin.

“Dude, what the fuck is your problem?” Jin says when Kame yanks a small knot out with his fingers and throws another glare at Jin. Now Kame’s _hair_ is Jin’s fault.

“I don’t have a problem,” Kame snaps, completely unconvincing as he stuffs things into his carry-all. Such a fucking hypocrite with his fucking Gucci makeup bag, and he’s needling Jin about shoelaces.

“You’ve been on my ass for days, Kamenashi—don’t tell me you don’t have a fucking problem,” Jin says. “If you’re pissed off at me, tell me why—don’t just stand around telling me I’m incompetent and I look like shit and—”

Kame moves really suddenly, and Jin flinches away—for a second he thinks Kame is about to kick him in the balls, and is that really what they’re coming down to, _what the hell_—but then there’s a hard yank in his hair, and Kame is right there, dragging Jin forward and bending his head back, forcing Jin to look up at him. His eyes are dark and heated, and Jin feels a weird flutter and drop like stumbling through the wrong door, a creeping sensation washing over him.

This is not normal. Not even for Kame.

“Are you okay?” Jin says, before he’s even finished thinking it. It comes out a little dry.

Kame’s fingers are really tight, and his eyes are really dark, irises nearly invisible around the pupils, and Jin is kind of scared. Not for himself.

But then Kame blinks at him. His eyes flicker, just slightly, and Jin feels the hand loosen slowly. Watches the cold fury slip off of Kame’s face, leaving him a little bit pale.

Kame blinks again and swallows.

“I…”

His eyes flit around again, looking over Jin like he hasn’t even seen him yet today, a little hazy and disoriented. He takes a step back, runs his tongue over his lips, and Jin can see now that his hands are shaking.

“Sorry,” Kame says, and it’s a little breathy, wobbly like the rest of him. “I didn’t mean to… that wasn’t…”

“Kame, do you want to sit down, maybe?” Nakamaru says, quietly. The whole room has gone still, is just staring at him. “You look like you’re going to be sick…”

Kame shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m… I’m fine, it’s probably just…nothing.” He’s not meeting their eyes—not even looking in Jin’s direction, but he’s not looking at any of the others either. He’s trying to play it off like he’s okay, but it’s the worst performance he’s given in a long time. “I’ll get going.”

“Kame, wait.”

Jin gets up to try to stop him, but Kame snatches up his bag and twists past him, disappearing into the hallway.

* * *

On Friday, for the first time Jin can remember since that day he collapsed on the set of Nobuta wo Produce and had to be hospitalized for exhaustion, Kame calls in sick.

It’s a recording studio day so it’s not that big a deal that he’s not there—they can have him record his parts separately. Even their manager doesn’t seem that concerned. Jin wouldn’t be concerned either, under normal circumstances. Even Kame’s got to get sick every once in a while—Jin is sick often enough, and if he thought it was just a common cold or whatever he’d be tempted to drop by after the studio session and rub it in a little, make sure Kame remembers this the next time he’s annoyed at Jin for having a sinus infection on a two-concert day.

But right now he doesn’t really feel like doing that.

Jin finishes his bits around eleven, but he hangs out in the booth for a little while after that, watching the sound recordist play with all the buttons and critiquing Koki’s rap. At twelve they’re all released on lunch break, and everybody but Ueda decides to go out for sushi at the place down the street—Ueda just kind of disappears, but nobody finds that unusual. He’s always back for their next appointment.

Jin begs off on the sushi and ducks into the stairwell, going over to lean against the window at the edge of the landing as he checks his phone. Nothing from Kame. Which isn’t that weird, really, Kame is stingy with his messages and he hasn’t called Jin for much of anything for the last couple of weeks. But still, it makes him kind of uneasy.

He knows his worrying is probably out of proportion—Kame is a grown man, he can survive a cold or whatever this is by himself. But, still. He’s been acting so weird lately, the others saw it too, and if it’s bad enough for him to actually call in sick…

Well. Okay, Jin figures he can either waste his whole lunch break standing here willing his phone to ring, or he can just call Kame himself.

Steeling himself for another wave of abuse, he hits the speed dial.

“Hi,” Kame says, after a few rings. He sounds…mostly normal. Maybe a little tired, but not falling apart or anything. Also not calling Jin an asshole right now, which is something.

“Hey,” Jin says. “Just wondered how you were feeling.”

There’s a little pause. “I’m… I’m okay. It’s nothing really that bad, I just—I felt like it was better if I didn’t go to work today.”

Jin frowns. There’s something weird in Kame’s voice. He sounds like he’s lying, but Jin’s not even sure what he could be lying about given that he’s hardly saying anything at all. Maybe it’s worse than Kame is making it sound?

“How about you, are you okay?”

Jin blinks at that. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Kame says. “I mean, after yesterday, when I… I was acting kind of weird. I’m not even sure exactly what I did. To you.”

To him?

There’s something in Kame’s voice that makes Jin pause over that. It’s bumping up against the things they don’t talk about, the things they’ve decided mutually never to talk about—and Jin’s not even sure why Kame’s brain is going there until he remembers that look in his eyes yesterday. That dark look, close. His hand tight in Jin’s hair.

Oh. That was… oh.

“You didn’t do anything to me,” Jin mumbles in a rush. He hears a skeptical huff from the other end of the phone—but no, Kame needs to understand this. “I’m serious, you—I mean, you pulled my hair a little and you basically called me an idiot a bunch of times, but you didn’t, like, attack me or anything. I’m fine.”

There’s a little pause. “Are you sure?”

Jin is actually starting to get a little bit freaked out right now. “Yeah, I’m sure. The other guys were all standing right there, you can ask them if you don’t believe me. You really can’t remember?”

“I remember… I remember some things. It’s just, some of it gets kind of blurry. There’s stuff in my head, and I can’t—I don’t know if it’s real.”

Jin frowns. “What kind of stuff.”

“I… don’t think you really want to hear about it,” Kame says, sounding uncomfortable.

Jin’s frown deepens, wondering what the hell kind of thoughts Kame is having that he couldn’t even tell him about. But then he remembers. Kame’s fingers in his hair, pulling tight. That angle and that dark stare, the way he could feel…

Fuck. That’s… fuck.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it. The thoughts, that is. He knows… well. He’s known for quite a while. It’s one of those things they don’t talk about, and that’s generally worked well for both of them. And Kame’s allowed to have thoughts, Jin’s not the thought police.

But if Kame is thinking things like that, and he can’t even tell what’s _real_…

This is fucked up.

“Have you talked to a doctor or anything yet?” Jin asks.

“No,” Kame says. “I wouldn’t know what to tell them. There’s not really anything _wrong_ with me, I just feel agitated all the time, and it’s hard to… keep things straight. In my head. What’s real. And it just gets worse when…”

Kame’s voice trails off.

“What?” Jin says. “What makes it worse?”

There’s silence for a moment. “You do,” Kame admits.

The pang is stupid. Jin knows that.

“Sorry, I’m not—” Kame fumbles. He sounds tired and confused, like he’s having trouble stringing words together. “I don’t mean it like that—it’s not your fault. I just don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“I know,” Jin says, though it helps to hear Kame say that. “I really think you should talk to a doctor though.”

“It’s in my _head_, Jin,” Kame argues. Even over the phone he sounds a little bit desperate. Lost. “How is a doctor going to help?”

“You don’t know it’s in your head,” Jin points out. “Maybe it’s exhaustion or something again. Anyway, even if it’s in your head, there are doctors who specialize in stuff like that too. Probably.” Jin knows there are in America anyway—there have got to be a few psychiatrists knocking around Tokyo too, right? Though he doesn’t actually know anyone who’s ever been to one.

“Jin…”

“What’s the other option?” Jin interrupts, exasperated. “Just never go to work again? Stop being around me? Forever?”

He doesn’t mean it to come out all whiny like that—he means it to be confident and derisive, like the obviously ridiculous idea it is. But the dull silence that follows takes all the confidence out of it.

“Okay,” Kame says, finally. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“Good,” Jin says. He tries not to sound too relieved. “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

* * *

The waiting room is a pristine white with black and chrome chairs all along the walls. The woman at reception smiles at them blandly as they walk in, takes Kame’s name without blinking and tells them to have a seat. They choose a couple of empty chairs on the lefthand side of the room. There are three copies of Maquia on the coffee table in front of them, but the middle-aged salaryman sitting opposite doesn’t look up from his newspaper as they settle in.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Kame says, glancing at the magazines. Pi’s name is written in bold blue in the corner of the one on top, with a teaser quote about his skincare regimen.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jin mutters in his ear. “It’s fine. It’s just a checkup—they probably won’t even poke you with a needle.”

“That’s not what I’m—” Kame sighs. “I feel ridiculous.”

“He’s a doctor, Kame—he’s probably seen weirder things. He spends every day looking at people with barnacles on their asses.”

Kame sits up sharply. “I do not have barnacles on my—” he starts. But then he takes a breath, visibly calming himself. “Look, can you just… go, or something? I’ll be fine from here, I promise.”

“No way,” Jin shakes his head. “You said you were fine a week ago, and I still ended up wearing my lunch on Tuesday for absolutely no reason.”

“You were being an ass.”

“And shoving a plate of yakisoba down a guy’s pants is just, what, the new ‘hello’?”

Kame doesn’t answer. Jin slumps down in his seat, satisfied.

Jin spends the next twenty minutes fiddling around on his phone, checking emails. There are two angry voicemails from Morita asking him where the hell he’s disappeared to, and he realizes he forgot to let her know he wouldn’t be back after lunch. He sends an email to Nakamaru explaining that he’s taking care of Kame and asking him to pass along the message. Morita never yells at Nakamaru.

Kame just sits there, twitching and shifting in his seat. Staring hard at the aquarium of tropical fish against the wall opposite, as if they’re whispering nasty secrets about him that they don’t know he can hear.

When the nurse finally calls his name, he jumps up from his seat. He’s halfway across the room before she’s even looked up from her chart.

The nurse doesn’t let Jin come in for the examination, so Jin has plenty of quality time to spend with the fish. It gets kind of boring though. He reads his emails a second time, and then starts scrolling through the headlines on his news app, to see if anyone he cares about is releasing a new album or something soon. Apparently one of the Kardashians is expecting a baby, and some junior has been accused of failing to help an old woman cross the street…

At one point a girl who looks just a little bit too teenage for comfort comes in and takes a seat opposite him, but he pulls his knit cap down over his eyebrows and buries his nose in a copy of Cinema Cinema until she gets called back. The salaryman comes out of the exam area and heads for the exit. A woman accompanying an elderly woman who is probably her mother comes and waits for a while. Another man comes and goes. Kame still hasn’t come back.

It’s been nearly three hours when the nurse finally appears and tells Jin he can go join his friend again. Jin stuffs the magazine in the chair and hurries back.

* * *

“You seem to be suffering from a condition called Neurokinetic Dysphoria Syndrome,” the doctor says, folding his hands over the desk and looking Kame straight in the eye. “It’s extremely rare—I’ve never heard of another case reported in Japan—and it’s still in the early stages of study. No one is exactly sure what causes it, though there are some indications that it might be related to stress or overwork.”

“That explains that then,” Jin mutters.

Kame gives him a look, but doesn’t argue.

“Anyway,” the doctor continues, “what appears to be happening is that your brain is artificially suppressing your nervous system’s ability to monitor its own level of arousal. This drives you to seek out greater and greater levels of stimulation, because your body believes that it’s understimulated when it is in fact overstimulated.”

“Overstimulated?” Kame repeats, eyebrows arching slightly.

The doctor clears his throat. “Stimulation is a general term in this context—for some people this means they become uncharacteristically thrill-seeking, commit crimes, start fights, drive cars off cliffs, overdose on illegal substances. But in a majority of known cases, yes, the patient particularly craves sexual stimulation.”

“So, what,” Jin says. “He just has to make sure not to,” he makes a hand gesture, “stimulate himself for a few weeks, or something?”

“God,” Kame groans, dropping his face into his hands. “_Why_ did I bring you here?”

“Because I’m the one who _got_ you here,” Jin reminds him.

“Actually, no,” the doctor says. “Just the opposite.”

Kame blinks up. “What?”

“We can give you injections to control some of the symptoms temporarily,” the doctor explains, “but the fact remains that this condition is taking an enormous toll on your body—and currently there’s no medical cure.”

Jin’s breath catches in his chest.

“What does that mean?” Kame says. Jin knows that careful voice, knows the scared shitless wobble it’s hiding too. He doesn’t want to hear what comes next.

“It means that if your condition isn’t resolved within a matter of weeks, you could die.”

No. No, that’s—what the—who the hell _dies_ from being _horny_? This has to be a joke. “That’s _bullshit_,” Jin says.

“What do you mean by ‘resolved’?” Kame presses, ignoring Jin’s outburst. “You say there’s no medical cure—what’s the non-medical cure?”

“I hesitate to call it a cure,” the doctor hedges. “We don’t really understand this condition well enough to determine that—but in roughly fifty percent of known cases, where patients were encouraged to safely indulge their impulses, the condition seems to spontaneously disappear. The hypothesis is that there comes a point at which the body is incapable of being stimulated any further, and the lagging perception of the nervous system actually catches up with the reality, bringing them into sync again. There was a study conducted on pygmy mice three years ago which indicates—”

“Please, doctor,” Kame interrupts, a little impatiently. “Can you just… can you just tell me what I need to do?”

The doctor nods apologetically, gives him a little smile. “Yes, of course. Basically, you need to do what you want to do. Whatever you _most_ want to do.”

Jin holds very still. When he glances over surreptitiously, he catches Kame doing the same thing.

That’s, um.

Shit.

* * *

“So, um,” Jin says, hands twisting on the steering wheel as he guides them through the damp streets. They haven’t said a word to each other since they left the doctor’s office. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Kame says dully. His head is resting against the windowpane, and he’s staring out at the stream of umbrellas drifting by. “Better, I guess. The injection helped.”

“Good,” Jin says, and it comes out a little too boisterous, like an awkward uncle trying to cheer up a kid who’s dropped his ice cream on the sidewalk. “That’s… that’s good, at least. Maybe that will make things easier.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

The car falls silent again, windshield wipers swishing back and forth a little too fast for the rain, which has slowed down now. The air feels damp and heavy even inside the car, but maybe that’s just the scenery playing tricks on him.

“Jin,” Kame says at last, sitting up, and Jin’s fingers clutch at the steering wheel in response. He keeps his eyes on the road, even when Kame turns to look at him frankly. “I’m not… I don’t want to make this a big deal or anything, but… you heard what the doctor said. Right?”

Jin nods, twisting to double check that there’s not someone coming from the right before he makes his turn.

“The whole thing about how I might die, and all? And the way to not die is to do whatever I want most?”

Jin nods again.

“Are you really going to make me say this?”

Heat bursts out all along the sides of his neck, and Jin makes a little sound that maybe was supposed to be a laugh, maybe a word, but it comes out more like a squeak.

Kame sighs and slumps back into his seat, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, okay?” he says. “I get that you’re not into that, and for your information this isn’t exactly the way I would have wanted it either. But you heard what he said. I could _die_, Jin.”

“Stop saying that,” Jin grumbles, stomach quivering.

“Why? It’s the reality, like it or not.”

“You are _not_ going to die.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help me?”

Jin presses his lips together.

Kame sighs again and turns away.

“Don’t huff at me like that,” Jin argues. “I’m not… I’m not saying I _won’t_ help you, I just— this is— this whole thing is fucking crazy, and I’m sorry if I can’t quite get my head around the idea that me getting…” The word dries up in his mouth. He swallows. “That I’m some kind of miracle drug. Or something.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“It was your idea!”

Kame glares at him. “You had the exact same idea when he said what he said back there. Admit it.”

Jin sneaks a glance at him across the car. “That’s not the point. I just… I need to think about it, okay? Maybe we can find something… else. Something different.”

“Fine,” Kame deadpans, waving his hand vaguely out at the rain. “Take all the time you need. I’m in no rush.”

“Kazuya…”

“You missed my building.”

Jin tries to figure out what that has to do with anything for a moment before he realizes he’s two streets past where he meant to be. He steps on the break and pulls over to the nearest corner—Kame doesn’t seem in the mood for a trip around the block.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

Kame looks at him blankly. “Are you going to help me?”

Jin swallows. “I… not… right _now_—”

“Then no thanks,” Kame says, yanking on the handle and stepping out into the rain.

“Kazuy—” Jin starts, but the door slams shut on the last syllable, and Kame is already walking quickly down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched and sulking.

Jin grumbles to himself as he shifts the car into gear again and pulls out into traffic.

* * *

Jin is a few hours drunker and a few hundred Wikipedia and WebMD and weird-homeopathy articles wiser when his cell phone buzzes next to him on the coffee table. He’s caught up in a dubiously sourced article about the psycho-physical benefits of Tantra, so he doesn’t think to look at the number before he answers the call.

“Hey,” Kame says. “It’s me.” He sounds subdued, and it’s enough to pull Jin out of the diagram he’s been staring at and pay attention.

“You okay? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Kame says. There’s a bitter little huff of breath. “Well, except for… but no, nothing new happened. I just wanted to apologize. For earlier.”

Jin settles back against the couch behind him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Kame says again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you like that—I get that it’s not that easy for you. I just. I don’t know. I’m kind of freaked out by this whole thing.”

“Yeah,” Jin says. “Me too.” He glances back at the computer screen. He has about a hundred tabs open in ten different windows, and he knows a hell of a lot more about aphrodisiac use in religious ritual than he did a few hours ago, but he still hasn’t really found anything that seems likely to solve the problem.

“Anyway, you don’t…” Kame says. “You shouldn’t worry about this. There’s plenty of other stuff I can try, I just… yeah. It’s not a problem. It’s not your problem.”

Jin frowns down at his laptop. His free-hand is still resting over the keys, another search term half typed-in. It’s nice of Kame to call, nice of him to let Jin off the hook like that. But, it’s not that simple. “It’s not like I’m not worried too,” Jin says. “I’d… I’d do it if it really comes down to that, if you _really_ need me to. But… there’s got to be something else that will work. There just _has_ to be.”

Kame makes a vague sound of agreement. Then the line goes quiet again.

“Did you talk to Johnny?”

“Yeah,” Kame says. “He knows some people—made me an appointment for tomorrow with… someone. Something I can try.”

Jin tries not to imagine. As weird as it makes him feel to think about letting Kame have sex with him, it feels even weirder to think about Kame having sex with someone else. Especially someone he doesn’t even particularly _want_ to have sex with—some professional who probably has all sorts of weird gadgets and knows about positions Jin hasn’t stumbled across on the internet yet.

But, yeah. Not thinking about that. Not thinking about that is good.

“Do you want me to drive you?” he offers instead, because hey, he can do moral support. He’s good at moral support.

“No, I’ll be alright,” Kame says. “They’re sending a car.”

Jin tries not to feel weird about that too. Tries not to imagine them carting him off to a lab or a sex dungeon or something. It’s probably nothing like that. “Okay, well. Call me after? Just to tell me how everything went.”

Kame doesn’t say anything.

“I mean, not,” Jin flusters. “Not _everything_, just… you know what I mean.”

Kame breathes a sigh. “Yeah,” he says. “I know what you mean. I’ll call you.”

* * *

It’s been a week and a half since the diagnosis. A week and a half since Kame stopped showing up for rehearsals and recording sessions, and it’s starting to look like the whole release schedule is going to be pushed back. Morita must have been briefed to some extent, because she’s not flipping out like she usually would over things being this far off the rails, but Jin is pretty sure she doesn’t know all the details. The story being put around is that Kame has come down with a nasty strain of flu, and he’s been given some time off to recover and avoid infecting anyone else. The other guys haven’t disputed this openly, but Jin could see the skeptical looks passing between them when this was relayed to them at their weekly meeting.

Jin has continued scouring the internet for possible solutions. He’s collected a vast library of herbal tea and poultice recipes and become a regular customer of the Chinese medicine shop down the street from his apartment. He made Kame a dreamcatcher to hang over his bed, bought him charms for good luck and strength and even pregnancy, and lit a candle for him at the temple.

Kame, meanwhile, is apparently still horny as fuck.

“How are you feeling?” Jin asks. He’s lighting the incense burner on Kame’s credenza—jasmine is supposed to be calming to the soul.

Kame watches him from across the room, staring blankly at the match as Jin holds it to the end of the stick. He’s wearing ripped jeans and no shirt, and he’s got a half-empty wine glass in his hand. His hair is mussed and sticking up in all directions—probably all the fingers running through it from his morning… appointment.

The other two wine glasses on the coffee table are empty.

“Could be worse,” Kame says, with a half shrug. He tilts the glass back and downs the last of the wine.

Kame notices Jin staring at the two empty wine glasses and gives him a bland look, daring him to comment. Jin swallows. He tries not to imagine Kame sandwiched between two musclebound dudes, servicing one while being fucked by the other. Or maybe it doesn’t work like that, maybe he’s always got to be the top. Maybe he takes them one at a time, like an assembly line.

Jin clears his throat, blinks the image away. “Does it help, at least?” he asks, trying to sound casually interested. Concerned for his friend’s health, nothing more.

“For a while,” Kame says.

“What about the injection thingies?” he asks, nodding toward Kame’s arm. The evidence is visible, needles five times a day. It’s supposed to keep him stable. More stable.

“Not as well as they used to,” Kame says, glancing down at the marks. A shadow passes over his eyes. “Seems like it wears off quicker every time. The nights are a bitch.”

When Jin looks up again, Kame’s eyes are on him with a trace of that look again. Hunger. Thirst. It sends a shiver down Jin’s spine, and he doesn’t know what to say, what to do to make it go away. What to do that he can do.

“Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“It’s three o’clock in the fucking afternoon, Akanishi,” Kame says, gathering up the wine glasses. “I can’t even sleep at three in the morning.”

“You could try,” Jin says, following him into the kitchen.

“I’ve _been_ trying!” Kame shouts, glaring at Jin and waving a wine glass dangerously close to his face. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I can’t fucking sleep, I can’t even _breathe_ without getting a fucking hard-on. Fuck off!”

He slams one of the glasses into the sink with a shatter.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reaching out to shut off the water. There’s blood on his hand, and Jin moves forward before he can think better of it, grabs his wrist to inspect the cut. “What—Jin—”

“You’re bleeding,” Jin says. “Hold still.” He snatches up one of the dish towels and wraps it tightly around Kame’s hand, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Kame doesn’t hold still, keeps twisting and clenching his fist like a little child trying to squirm away from its mother. “Jin, seriously—”

Jin presses him closer to the counter trying to keep him still, focused on the cut and checking it for glass fragments. “Don’t be a dick, just let me take care of this.”

Kame freezes. Shudders.

There’s a growl and a shove, and suddenly Kame is on him, ramming Jin’s tailbone up against the edge of the counter opposite, clenching fingers in his hair and latching onto his throat, pushing a knee between Jin’s thighs.

“God, just let me fuck you,” Kame rasps. There are teeth scraping against his neck and Jin can’t breathe, feels upside down, like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. “I can make it good for you, just let me do it.”

“Kame,” Jin stutters, trying to push him off, but Kame’s like an eel sliding against his chest, hips pressing into him. His grip on Jin’s hair keeps him off balance, makes him feel a bit dizzy.

“You’re always such a fucking cocktease—everything for them and nothing for _me_, even though you know what I would do for you…”

“Kame, stop,” Jin says, finally grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him out to arm’s length. Kame’s breath is coming in harsh bursts, and his eyes look weird and hazy, dark, looking at Jin like he’s starving and Jin is the last pork chop at the market. It’s fucking scary.

“Snap out of it,” he says, shaking Kame a little.

Kame blinks a few times. The scary, starving look falls away, but the sickened pallor that replaces it isn’t a whole lot better.

“Can you please,” Kame says, his voice sticking a little as it comes out. He’s still leaning heavy against Jin’s palms, like some strange gravity is pulling him towards Jin and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. “Can you please just go?”

Jin’s mouth is dry. There’s something so exhausted and desperate in the way Kame says that. Kame’s eyes are still darting back and forth over him, sweeping over his chest and shoulders and face, and the hunger seeps in from the edges. Less predatory now, more just… longing.

“Do you have any idea how much it hurts to want something you can never, ever have?” Kame says.

For a moment, Jin can’t breathe.

His mind goes blank. The gravity pulls at him too, and maybe it would be easier, maybe it would be better that way. To just give in. End this. Kame’s a little out of his mind right now, but he knows what he’s doing, he could probably make sure it wouldn’t… hurt. Much.

God.

“You should sit down,” Jin says, when his voice is working again. It’s not enough. Not enough, but it’s all he’s got.

Kame huffs a breath, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he says, and the weight eases off of Jin’s hands as Kame turns away.

Kame crosses over to the sink again and finishes rinsing off his hand, checking the cut for glass fragments. Jin knows better than to try to help this time—he keeps his distance and just watches as Kame bandages his hand and cleans the glass out of the sink. He doesn’t look at Jin again when he’s done—just leaves the bloodstained dishtowel in a lump by the sink and wanders slowly out of the kitchen.

When Kame flops down on the couch with a sigh, Jin follows him quietly. Takes the seat next to him carefully—not too close and not too far. Kame’s eyes are closed, but Jin can feel his attention nonetheless, sees the way he twitches and shifts in his seat, like he’s trying to get comfortable and never really can.

Eventually Kame digs his hands into his hair and sighs, sinking deeper into the backrest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you like that. I just—I don’t know what else to do,” Kame says, his voice wavering a little bit helplessly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like, seriously, properly, losing my mind. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch, somewhere under the surface, and it’s _everywhere_, all the time. The guys Johnny sends me take the edge off for a little while, but it always comes back, stronger than before. And when I…” He doesn’t open his eyes, just makes a familiar hand gesture. “That hardly makes a dent—it doesn’t _reach_.”

“Would it help if I did it?” Jin says.

It’s out before he can think about it, before he can decide if it’s too far over the line. If it might even make things worse, or maybe just… weird.

Kame blinks up at him, and Jin’s breath catches in his throat.

Just a handjob. Just… his hand, whatever. It’s not a big deal. He can handle it.

“Would you?” Kame breathes. And Jin feels a little shiver that’s not quite like fear.

Kame’s eyes never leave him as Jin scoots a little closer to him on the couch. Jin swallows, eyes darting over Kame—he’s not really sure where to look. He doesn’t really want to look there, but his eyes don’t seem to know that, and he can’t not notice the shape of him inside his jeans. Can’t not remember what that felt like pressed up against him, with Kame’s voice in his ear.

He doesn’t know what to do. Glances up at Kame for a lead, some kind of direction.

Kame reaches out for his hand and pulls it toward him, closer, till Jin’s leg is bumping up against Kame’s. That close. He watches as Kame flattens Jin’s palm against his stomach, feels the muscles contracting underneath his fingers as Kame presses up against him. Slides their hands down just slightly, till Jin’s fingertips brush the waistband of his jeans. Kame breathes a soft moan.

This isn’t so bad.

Then Kame grips Jin’s hand again and pushes it further, lower, over the jeans and right there, where he’s hard. Jin’s breath disappears in his chest, and he can’t stop looking, can’t not watch Kame pushing up against his hand with a shuddering breath.

He doesn’t really know what to do, but Kame seems to know what he wants, what he needs, seems fine tightening his fingers around Jin’s and pressing himself into them. He can feel the groan against his ear, the dampness that brushes his fingertips as Kame gets harder under his palm.

Eventually Kame pushes his hand out of the way and flicks open the jeans, unzips his fly, and the shape of him is even more visible straining against his black boxers. Jin’s not sure why that makes him shiver again.

Kame’s got him by the hand again, pushes him down inside the boxers and then it’s there, in his hand.

When Kame arches his back, Jin can’t help glancing up at him, and swallows hard.

He’s not sure why that makes it easier. Not sure why, but it does, so he keeps his eyes on Kame. Keeps his eyes on Kame as he lets his hand move up a little, and back down, gripping the shaft. It’s hot under there. Burns his palm and his fingers when he wraps around the head, burns his ears with Kame’s gasp, and he watches as he pulls it out, watches his hand move over Kame’s dick. It’s weird how it’s familiar and not—somebody else’s, Kame’s, but still a dick, still heavy and good in his hand.

“Tighter,” Kame demands, and clutches at Jin’s shoulder when he makes it tight, starts to move faster. “Yes… _yes_…” Little panting breaths, and Jin doesn’t even mind when Kame’s hand comes over his halfway through and makes it even tighter, quicker on the downstroke. Jin likes the push and pull, the way he can feel it getting heavier, harder in his grip. Jin starts to wonder what Kame would do if he leaned down right now, took it in his mouth—if that would help… But then he cuts that shit _right_ out, because that isn’t—that wasn’t part of the…

Kame’s fingers sneak into Jin’s hair and pull, tight, and Jin can’t help the gasp. Can’t not notice this time the way that makes him feel. The way his jeans get a little bit tighter—tighter than they _were_, and he doesn’t know what to do with that either. It sends his mind off spinning when he needs to concentrate, keep up the rhythm, because Kame is on the edge and his fingers are tight and demanding over Jin’s, and this is no time for Jin to start thinking things through. He speeds up a little, the muscles in his arm starting to ache, and soon Kame is twitching and shivering and swearing and there’s come on his hand.

Jin is still totally cool and not freaking out at all. Definitely not. Nope.

Kame’s fingers are still in his hair, tightening convulsively, and Jin can’t make himself push them away. He can feel it down below too. That itch he can’t scratch.

“Let me blow you,” Kame rasps in his ear. “You want it, I know you do.”

Jin’s eyes fall closed, and he swallows hard, head tilted back in Kame’s grip. He can feel the heat of Kame’s body next to him, still feel him sticky between his fingers. He nods.

Kame doesn’t waste time, pushes Jin back against the back of the couch—and Jin just gives up, doesn’t open his eyes. Lets Kame wriggle down off the couch and settle between his knees, hot and solid and not Jin’s fault—it’s what Kame needs, what Kame asked for. The tug at his belt feels heavy, but he lets it float away, lets the cool air and the warm fingers wrap around him, make him twitch. Then it’s hot and wet, and Jin has to choke back an embarrassing noise. He was harder than he thought.

He still doesn’t open his eyes, but his hand reaches for Kame, tangles in his hair to feel the up and down, feel Kame’s mouth working over him. The flick of his tongue and the pressure, the hum when he groans around it, and Jin doesn’t even have to try. Doesn’t have to think, it’s all there between his legs, he can feel it, hot and good and better than ever.

The orgasm comes on so fast it leaves him shuddering, twitching at the brush of Kame’s tongue against the tip. Awareness drifts back to him slowly, and he tries to keep it away, because even from inside his head with his eyes closed he can tell it’s going to be awkward.

Finally he can’t put it off anymore. He opens his eyes.

Kame is looking up at him. His hands are stroking gently over Jin’s thighs, and he looks calmer than he did a few minutes ago. More at ease, a little more himself.

Well, good for him.

Jin’s mouth feels dry. He swallows, tries not to think about swallowing. Tries not to think about mouths, and looks at Kame’s mouth where it bows up in a little bit of a smile. Where his dick was just a minute ago. Where he came.

He’s not even sure what to say.

“Thanks,” Kame says. Then he gets to his feet and turns to go back into the kitchen, leaving Jin to tuck his spent dick back inside his pants with numb fingers.

* * *

It’s three a.m. now, and Jin is still awake.

He’s been a bit preoccupied all afternoon, drifting through grocery shopping and another stop at the Chinese medicine shop. Through boiling pasta on the stove and watching random variety shows on the couch over dinner. Through his shower, and getting ready for bed. Three hours in the dark.

He can’t stop thinking about Kame.

He’d like to tell himself that that’s kind of the status quo for the past couple of weeks—he’s been thinking about Kame pretty much every waking minute since they visited the doctor, whether it’s researching herbal medicines or trying to explain his absence to a TV camera.

But this isn’t quite the same.

He’s thinking about Kame’s mouth. Not just his mouth, the sounds he made, the way he made Jin feel. He was really fucking good at that—and he was right, there’s no getting around it. Jin got hard. Jin had his hand on Kame’s cock, Jin made Kame come, and it made him hard. There were no secret lesbian porn scenes running through his head, he wasn’t imagining Kame as a girl or anything like that. Kame was Kame, dick and all. And Jin got off on that.

That was new.

He’s a little bit hard again now just thinking about it. Fuck it—he’s been a little bit hard all afternoon, but now that he’s lying here in the dark with nothing else to distract him he’s actually… pretty hard. He could get off on it again.

It did help, he thinks. Kame seemed better for a while after that, a little more himself. He was still twitchy, still too focused on Jin’s hips and clearly trying to keep his distance—but he was better. Calmer, for a while. Better than those other dudes made him.

Maybe Jin really would be a miracle cure.

But… shit. That would be taking things to a whole different level. Jin’s has never even thought about doing something like that. Like, not even with a girl or whatever, it’s just never been something he seriously considered. He’s really not sure he could go there, can’t even picture it. He actually _tries_, starts walking himself through the steps of what it would feel like to get down on his hands and knees, let Kame take him from behind. The thought makes him a little bit queasy.

But then, he would have said that about the idea of jerking a guy off a few weeks ago, and that turned out to be… really not as bad as he’d thought. Even the idea of putting a dick in his mouth doesn’t freak him out as much as it used to. Which, in itself, freaks him out a little.

Still though. Getting _fucked_.

He heaves a sigh and rolls to his back.

His dick is still very hard—so hard he can feel it pressing up against the blankets, begging for attention. No way around it. Not if he wants to get any sleep.

So, he slips his hand down the front of his pajama pants and runs his fingers along his length, shivering a little. Plays with his balls and lets his eyes fall closed.

There’s Kame there, on this inside. Kame’s dick in his hand, and he strokes it just like he did that afternoon—lightly at first, and then a little firmer, faster. _“Tighter,”_ Kame demands in his mind, and it makes him hard just to remember, makes his hand move faster.

_“God, just let me fuck you.”_

It’s a surprise. The way that rattles through him, makes him harder still, and needier. He can remember Kame’s body pressed against him, Kame’s erection pressed against his hips, and the strength in his arms and fingers, the hunger in his eyes.

He doesn’t really decide to do it. His sleep pants have already slid halfway down his thighs, and it doesn’t take much more wriggling to get them down past his knees, let his legs fall open. He wets a couple of fingers with his mouth, lets his free hand find its way in, playing with his balls at first, and a little behind, right there where it’s sensitive. His fingertips slide back further, by millimeters, knees spreading further to open him up, until he feels around the rough-smooth edges and gives a shudder.

It’s weird. But somehow also good.

Tentatively, he presses in a little, still stroking the head of his dick lightly. He expects it to hurt, to feel wrong—but somehow it doesn’t. It’s just him. Strange, yes, but he’s totally in control, and there’s something about the fact that he’s never touched himself like this, that no one has, and it _doesn’t hurt_, that makes him want to go further. Feel more.

Soon his index finger is in up to the second knuckle, and he starts feeling around inside himself, breathing into the new sensation.

It’s not so scary.

A second finger slides in more easily, and Jin breathes into the light stretch, shudders at how open it is, how tight, and it makes his hand move faster over his dick. God, he’s fingering himself—he’s fingering himself and he’s _liking_ it. He’s never felt so far out on a ledge.

He pushes and curls his fingertips just to feel them more, feel what it’s like, movement restricted by the angle—someone else could do it better, could reach more. Get more inside him. Further. He keeps jerking himself, keeps his fingers as deep as he can, and it’s good, it’s so fucking good, he imagines Kame seeing him like this and how hard it would make him, how much he would _want_, and that’s enough to make him come hard in his own hand, muscles twitching and clenching helplessly around his fingers as he moans into the dark.

* * *

He’s not really sure—maybe it’s just his brain playing tricks on his body—but Jin is pretty sure he can actually feel it a little the next morning.

At least getting off like that helped him sleep last night, but it doesn’t make being awake any easier, having these thoughts rolling around in his head. They’ve got photoshoots all morning, and Jin is stuck under hot lights for hours with nothing to occupy him but all the million questions on his mind. He ends up resorting to reciting the starting lines of all the teams in the J2 League, just to keep himself from getting a visible boner.

The afternoon is easier—he’s being interviewed for one of the morning shows, a VTR thing, so at least that means they ask him questions, and none of them are about dicks. He loses his grip a little bit when they ask him how Kame is doing, if he’s on the mend—but he thinks he pulls it off pretty well. At least he doesn’t mention the prostitutes. Or the handjob.

It’s after six by the time he gets off work, already starting to get dark outside. He hasn’t had any contact with Kame all day—not that that’s super unusual, but given all the things that… happened yesterday. It’s on his mind.

He should check up on him, at least.

Kame doesn’t answer when he calls his cell, so Jin decides to just go over there. He knows Kame takes his sleep where he can get it these days, so it’s likely that he’s napping or in the shower or something—after the first week when Jin kept waking him up in a panic when he didn’t answer calls, Kame just gave him a spare key and told him to come by whenever he wants.

Jin has the driver drop him off at a café down the street from Kame’s place, makes sure his cap and sunglasses hide him decently before he climbs out of the backseat. It’s a pretty quiet neighborhood, and no one seems to recognize him on the street, which is good. That’s generally the way he prefers it, and better still under these circumstances.

He lets himself into the building and takes the elevator up to the fourth floor. The front door of the apartment is unlocked, which means at least Kame must be home. There are lights on in the living room and the kitchen, but as Jin slips off his shoes and shrugs out of his coat, he doesn’t see Kame around anywhere. The couch is empty.

“Kame?” he calls out, hanging the coat on one of the empty hooks.

No response.

Weird.

There’s a little trail of smoke coming from the incense burner on the credenza. There are also a couple of dirty dishes sitting on the coffee table—doesn’t look like he’s had company, just lunch. But Kame is very tidy, not usually the type to leave dishes lying around for hours.

“Kame?” he says again, moving further into the apartment. As he passes the entrance to the kitchen, something glinting catches his eye—and there’s Kame, sprawled out on the floor with blood on his arm, smudges of it on the floor, surrounded by a sea of broken glass.

“Shit,” Jin whispers, and almost runs in there right away—he catches himself at the doorway. Then he grabs his shoes again and pulls them on, stepping quickly and carefully over the glass until he can crouch down beside Kame where he’s lying face down.

He’s breathing at least. The cut on his arm doesn’t seem all that bad close up, like he just leaned on a glass fragment or something while he was lying here on the floor. “Kame, wake up,” he says, tugging at Kame’s shirt, his shoulder, trying to shift his weight up without losing his balance or rolling Kame over onto the glass. There’s another small cut on his cheek, but it doesn’t look that bad either.

“Jin,” Kame mumbles, eyelids heavy, fighting against him. He sounds very far away. Jin shakes him a little more, shifts him up into a sitting position. Kame’s head rolls back like a rag doll’s, and Jin has to shift quickly to steady him again.

“Kame, are you okay? What happened?”

“Jin…” Kame murmurs again, and his hands are groping the air now, trying to find Jin’s arms. Kame’s eyelids flutter again, like he’s fighting to stay afloat. He doesn’t seem capable of much more than that.

Jin glances around at the glass-covered floor, at Kame’s bare feet. Fuck. But, whatever, he can’t just leave him here. He needs to get him out of this room.

He shifts up a bit, hooking his arms around Kame’s back and under his knees and trying to keep them both steady as he lifts Kame up. Kame wraps his arms around Jin’s neck and just hangs on, lets Jin get carry him over the glass and deposit him safely on the carpet. Jin keeps an arm around Kame’s waist as he kicks off his shoes again, trying to keep the glass fragments contained, and then he stumbles with Kame over to the bathroom to clean up his injuries.

Kame squirms in Jin’s arms, but doesn’t prevent him from washing the cut. He still seems to be struggling to stay upright, leaning into Jin like he’s the only sturdy thing left in the world.

“Jin, please,” Kame murmurs against his neck, as Jin pats down Kame’s arm with a clean hand towel. Kame’s free hand is worming its way under Jin’s shirt, fluttering over the skin at the small of his back like it’s got a mind of its own. “Please, I can’t… I can’t anymore. It hurts.”

Kame’s voice sounds so strained, weak. Fading.

“You have to help me,” Kame breathes, half into Jin’s collar now, hot breath against his skin. “Please.”

Jin’s mouth goes dry. He wants to wrap his arms around him and just hold on. Keep them steady.

His heart is racing in his chest, thoughts racing in his head. He thinks about reaching for his cell phone and calling the doctor, but there’s nothing they’ll tell him that they haven’t told him already. The injections aren’t working, the… the other guys aren’t working. Kame is only getting worse, he’s coming apart at the seams, and there’s nothing that anyone can do.

Anyone but him.

He swallows hard and wraps his arms tighter around Kame’s shoulders, trying not to think too much.

He takes a breath. A deep one.

“Okay,” he says, against the side of Kame’s throat.

Kame’s fingers are twisted in the hem of Jin’s t-shirt now, from the inside. Pushing and pulling, not letting go. “Okay?” he repeats fuzzily. Sluggishly, like he thinks this is part of a delusion.

“I’m here,” Jin says, swallowing again, trying to keep his voice steady. It has to be this way, there’s nothing else they can do. They’ve tried everything. “Do what you need to do. I’m… I’ll do it, okay? Whatever you need.”

Kame’s fingers tighten slowly against Jin’s sides, and Kame lifts his head to look at Jin. Already his eyes seem just a little bit clearer, a little more focused.

When he still doesn’t say or do anything, Jin gives him an encouraging little nod. It’s okay. He’s really sure.

That’s all Kame needs. Kame’s arms are surprisingly strong when he stops holding back, lets himself pull Jin in for a bruising kiss. It takes Jin’s breath away a little, and his stomach drops, fear shooting out to every limb, but he tries to keep it steady. Just go with it, not think too much. Kame needs this. This is what Kame needs.

It helps that Kame is objectively a pretty good kisser. Jin focuses on that—on the way Kame holds him steady, right where he needs him, and kisses him firmly, hungrily, leaving no room for Jin’s brain to do that doubting thing it sometimes does when he leaves it in charge. He doesn’t even really have to do anything—which is good, because he’s not really sure what to do. His hands drift awkwardly over Kame’s shoulders, down his back, feeling the firm muscle, the strength in him, and it’s… kind of terrifying, but he tries to let that just drift away. Lets Kame keep kissing him. Kame knows what he’s doing.

Jin can do this. He can just go with it, let Kame move him wherever he wants, take him however he needs.

It’s a little chilly on his back when he feels Kame pull his t-shirt up over his head—but he goes with that too, lets it drop on the floor next to them. Kame gets rid of his own t-shirt, and the feeling when Kame pulls him in again, firmer, faster, gives Jin a rush. Kame’s skin is warm.

“Where…” Jin mumbles breathlessly, between kisses, “where do we…”

Kame slides a hand down the back of Jin’s jeans and squeezes his ass, in a way that gives Jin another shiver. It makes it hard not to notice the bulge in Kame’s sweatpants, pressing up against him. It should probably freak him out more than it does, where this is going—but he just breathes through it, tries to let it float away with all the rest.

He’s hard too, a little. That’s probably a good thing, he thinks—and not totally surprising after what happened yesterday. He’s not even sure if that’s required, come to think of it—maybe Kame doesn’t need to get him off, just needs to get himself off. But… whatever, it can’t hurt, and maybe it will make things easier when Kame starts to… when he’s inside. It works that way for girls anyway.

Oh god. No, shit, that is definitely not helping.

Kame’s fingers are on his belt now, pulling and tugging at the leather, and—shit, are they doing it _here_? Just like this? With the mirror, and everything?

“Are you going to fuck me over the counter?” he asks before he can stop himself. It comes out a little bit squeaky.

Kame breathes hard into his hair and holds him a little tighter, shakes his head. It helps Jin breathe a little bit.

“I was thinking the floor,” Kame says.

It gives Jin a jolt. Better than the counter and the _mirror_, and Kame has really fluffy bathmats. But…

He feels a tug on his zip, some fumbling around the waistband, and then Kame’s hand slides into his pants and wraps around him. Warm and firm, just a stroking tease. Jin presses his lips together and breathes hard through his nose, holding onto Kame and focusing on the sensation. He’s not a girl. He’s totally not a girl. Kame wouldn’t want him like this if he was.

Okay. Okay maybe the floor is okay.

Jin’s hips move of their own accord against Kame’s hand, into the loose grip. The arousal is good, he’ll need that to get through this, to chase all the other things away—so he focuses on that feeling and doesn’t think about the rest of it. Whatever Kame needs.

Kame presses down against Jin’s shoulder a bit, and Jin takes the hint, lets them sink to their knees. He starts to shift over forwards—but Kame gets in his way and doesn’t let him, tilts him over onto his back instead, flat against the fluffy white bathmat. He’s confused at first—can it actually work like this?—but Kame doesn’t seem concerned, and Kame knows what he’s doing, Jin doesn’t have to think it through. The floor is firm at his back, cold on his heels, and he feels more held than ever when Kame comes down on top of him, heavy and hot against his hips, with that slightly terrifying bulge in his sweatpants.

Kame knows what he’s doing. This can work.

The kiss goes deep again, penetrating, and Jin tries to breathe through it, threads his fingers into Kame’s hair. It’s really soft in spite of all the tangles, smells like melons and raspberries. Kame seems to like it when Jin grabs hold of it, rolls his hips downwards in response.

The fear creeps in again when Kame starts shifting down, a distracting tongue circling Jin’s left nipple as his fingers push at Jin’s waistband. Shifting his jeans and underwear down over his hips, making him feel gradually more exposed. His hands go a little distracted in Kame’s hair, and he tries to breathe, not think, just go with it, let Kame lead. Kame inches on, pushing Jin’s pants down past his knees, and Jin’s legs tremble as he squirms them out, lets Kame settle in between his thighs. He can feel Kame moving around down there, slipping out of his own sweatpants, and Jin doesn’t know if he wants to look or not-look.

He gasps when he feels Kame’s mouth come down hot around his dick. His eyes fall closed and he arches into the heat, every nerve ending wanting more of it. Kame teases the vein just underneath the head and runs his palm flat over Jin’s hip, and Jin can’t help thrusting into his mouth a little. This helps. It helps that it’s good.

Kame’s mouth slips off the end again, and there’s just a little stroke, gentle up and down. Jin hears the drawer in the counter next to them slide open and closed again, and he swallows. Opens his eyes.

Kame is there between his knees, naked and flushed, eyes raking over Jin’s skin, everywhere—and Jin is surprised when it doesn’t feel bad. It feels good, better somehow to not be in the dark—to see what Kame is seeing, where his hands are, where he’s headed next. Kame wants him. Kame wants him a _lot_. And there’s Kame’s cock, dark and thick and standing at attention—but still the same cock as yesterday, that one that fit in his palm so snugly, that wanted him. It puts a little twist in his stomach, and he’s not quite sure if it’s fear this time or anticipation.

There’s a rush of cold against his skin, in between, and Jin flinches—Kame’s fingers, cool and slippery and too sudden, a little bit shaky. Jin catches his breath and tries to relax again, let Kame’s fingers find their way in. It’s incredibly weird when he thinks about it, kind of embarrassing, lying here on his back with his legs spread, and Kame’s _hand_ in his… no, _no_, no thinking now. Thinking is not helping. He closes his eyes again and tries to focus on what it feels like. What it’s going to feel like. Kame’s other hand is still stroking Jin’s cock just below the head. Soon it doesn’t even feel all that tight, the stretch smooth and more comfortable with each flick of Kame’s fingers.

“You have no idea how hot you are,” Kame breathes, fingers working inside Jin, and a violent flush spreads all down Jin’s neck and across his chest.

“Thanks,” he manages, and his voice sounds thin and weak, a little bit wobbly. There’s something happening inside him, something Kame’s doing that’s making it harder to think, harder to keep still. It’s… it’s good somehow, but it’s also somehow not enough—he wants more. He _needs_.

He _almost_ says it. Almost. Has to bite his lips shut to stop himself.

Holy _shit_.

Kame’s wrist flicks demandingly just as his fingertips move the right way, and Jin breathes out a harsh sound, oh god.

“Say it,” Kame murmurs. Demanding, pleading. “Tell me you want it.”

That move again, with the just right timing, and oh god, oh fuck, he needs something more _now_.

“Fuck me,” Jin breathes out, and it scrapes along the sides of his throat, makes him flush all over, but it also makes him harder, makes him need it even more.

Kame pulls his hips up and shifts closer, replaces his fingers with something larger, heavier, just at the entrance, and Jin can feel it there, too big…

But. He _wants_ it.

Slowly Kame pushes closer, his cock pushing in, stretching Jin to fit, and Jin’s breath leaves him as it starts to stretch farther. Too far. He swears under his breath and tries not to tense up, grips Kame’s arm like an anchor—and then there’s a sudden slip, and he makes a startled sound. It’s tight, suddenly.

“It’s okay,” Kame gasps, his entire body taut with control, with strength. He’s got Jin behind the knees and is holding him steady, suspended. “You’re okay. That was the hard part.”

Jin squeezes his eyes shut and nods, trying to catch his breath. It feels huge, too huge to go where it’s going—but the more he breathes into it, the more he realizes it doesn’t actually hurt. It just feels… big. Tight.

“I’m okay,” he repeats back, partly to himself. Nods again when it’s true. “I’m okay, you can…”

He gasps when Kame does, when the big gets even bigger, fills him more. But that’s all it is, just deeper. No more stretch. No more of the hard part.

Jin’s hard-on has faded a little, but he starts to feel it coming back as Kame falls into a rhythm. The pain doesn’t come back, even when he can tell Kame is all the way in, can feel him pressed up close, his hands gripping Jin’s hips. It feels even better when he tries a little shift, tries moving into the thrusts until that place where it’s good starts feeling it again. Kame groans when he feels what Jin is doing, and the thrusts come back even harder then, hitting him just right. Making him start to feel shivery, like he’s coming apart at the seams.

“Touch me,” Jin gasps out, and Kame is all over it, reaches for Jin immediately and starts stroking him double time to the thrusts, driving him higher and higher until Jin doesn’t know anymore where he is, why he didn’t just fucking do this in the first place. Why was he ever afraid of feeling like this? This is _amazing_.

He comes hard and loud, white streaks on the cabinet drawer and the fluffy bathmat, and Kame is still fucking him. Doesn’t miss a beat or let him take a breath, just groans when the orgasm tightens Jin’s muscles around him. Jin can hardly see straight and his knees feel like jelly, but Kame’s got him right where he needs him and he’ll take whatever he needs. He’ll let Kame have his ass any way he wants it, tries to tighten up again just a little, just to get him to make that sound again.

It gets even faster then, faster than Jin would have thought he was capable of after all this, when he started out unconscious on the kitchen floor, but he can tell Kame is getting close. Jin’s hips will be bruised in the morning, but when Kame slams into him that last time and cries out, hips pulsing helplessly against Jin’s thighs, Jin thinks he really doesn’t give a fuck.

Everything feels a bit stiff when Kame finally slides out, lets Jin’s hips sink to the floor. Jin can barely think anymore, the rush of relief and orgasm still pooling in his veins, making it hard to keep his eyes open. He hears Kame dealing with the condom, feels him tumble down onto the fluffy bathmat beside Jin, his leg resting across Jin’s thigh. He’s breathing hard, but when Jin blinks his eyes open, Kame’s eyes are closed.

“Thank you,” Kame breathes. It’s the last thing Jin hears before he falls asleep.

* * *

When Jin wakes up, Kame is gone.

Jin is still naked and sprawled on the floor, right where he’d fallen asleep—but there’s a big beach towel and a very fluffy bathrobe spread over him, carefully covering him from shoulders to feet, as if Kame was worried he might catch cold. Kame’s clothes are gone too, but the streaks of come are still on the cabinet, and the used condom is still sitting on the floor nearby—Kame can’t have gone far.

Jin gingerly gets to his feet and pulls on the bathrobe, belting it at his waist. It’s interesting, though not necessarily bad, the way he’s suddenly aware of all kinds of muscles he didn’t even know he had. He feels it even more standing up, a strange soreness that goes deep. At least he’s still able to walk.

When he steps out into the living room, he finds Kame huddled on the couch, with his face in his hands.

Jin’s heart sinks.

“Kame,” he says, crossing over to him quickly and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of him. “Shit, Kame, are you okay?”

Kame blinks up at him, startled, like he’s surprised Jin is here. Or surprised he’s _still_ here. Jin wonders if maybe he should be offended.

“It’s…” Kame starts, thickly. His eyes still seem a bit glassy, dazed.

Oh god. No, no, he can’t be still…

“I think it’s… it’s gone,” Kame says.

Jin breathes out harshly. Whacks Kame on the shin. “Son of a bitch, don’t _scare_ me like that—I thought you were going to say you were still… you know. Sick.”

Kame breathes a small, unsteady laugh and shakes his head slowly. “No. No, I… I really think it’s gone. That feeling, it’s like… it’s like I can breathe again. My head is finally clear.”

Jin smiles. He wants to put his arms around Kame and pull him close—and Kame looks like he could use a hug, though Jin has to admit privately that that’s not the only reason he wants to. But the way he’s still huddled up like that, Jin doesn’t want to be presumptuous. What happened before, those were special circumstances. It’s not like he’s expecting Kame to cuddle him and pet his hair, or whatever.

Not really, anyway.

“That’s great,” he says, giving Kame another little smile. Trying to show him it’s all cool—he’s cool. Happy to be Kame’s miracle sex penicillin, or whatever. “I’m glad it worked.”

Kame’s eyes flick back to Jin with new focus all of a sudden, and they take on a worried tinge again. “Oh god. Jin, are you… okay?”

Jin blinks back at him. “Am I okay?” Yeah, sure, he was nervous or whatever, but… it should have been pretty evident by the end that he wasn’t having a bad time. Could Kame really not tell?

Kame glances over toward the kitchen, nods toward the broken glass. “I just… I don’t know what I did that made you let me… but. If I hurt you or anything, I’m so sorry.”

Jin glances back over his shoulder, remembers the broken glass and bloodstains on the floor and puts the pieces together. “No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “No, Kame, you didn’t—the blood’s yours, not mine. You were unconscious when I got here—you didn’t do anything to me.”

Kame looks skeptical. “Really?”

Jin nods. “Really, I promise.”

But. Wait, if he doesn’t remember that, does that mean he doesn’t… remember?

It puts a sulky little knot in the pit of Jin’s stomach. And he knows that’s stupid, Kame is _sick_, it’s not like he just doesn’t remember out of… inconsideration, or something. Or because Jin was so forgettable.

But. Still.

“So then,” Kame starts, looking a bit lost. “If I didn’t, then how did we end up…?”

Jin glances down at his knees. He didn’t expect to have to do this _twice_. “I offered,” he mumbles.

“You _offered_?”

Now Kame just sounds bewildered. Jin has to consciously resist the urge to pout.

“Yes, I offered,” Jin says. And okay, maybe he’s pouting just the tiniest bit. “You were _unconscious_. You looked like you were going to keel over any second, and you were like, begging me in this tiny little weak voice, and we tried fucking _everything_ already and there were no more options, so… yeah…”

He sneaks a look at Kame before glancing away again, feeling the little hairs pricking up on the back of his neck. Stupid Kame and his stupid dick.

“You did that for me?” Kame says. He sounds kind of touched.

Aw, crap.

“I was always going to if it came down to it,” Jin says, fiddling with a stray thread on the cuff of the bathrobe. “I told you.”

“I know, but… thank you. I’m really sorry you had to get involved in all this. Thanks.”

“Stop thanking me,” Jin says, feeling the flush rising again. He wants to squirm, but he also kind of wants to be kissed, which is really not helping. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“But I know you don’t—I know how you are about this, you don’t even like it when I mention being with guys, and the fact that you would actually let me—”

Jin lets out a growl of frustration and sits up on his knees quickly, grabbing Kame by the shoulders and pressing their mouths together firmly, just to make him stop… stop _saying things_, already.

Kame draws in a sharp breath through his nose, his whole body going tense underneath Jin’s hands. After a moment, Jin leans back again slowly, avoiding his eyes.

“What was that for?” Kame says, on very thin breath.

Jin clears his throat a little. “I told you,” he says. “It wasn’t that bad.”

There’s another stretch of silence, just long enough for Jin to feel his ears burning again. He wishes Kame would start saying things again. Just maybe not things about other guys.

“Are you saying… it was good?” Kame murmurs.

Jin glances up at him again briefly. “I might be. If you’re nice to me.”

He hears Kame’s breath leave him in a rush. Then there’s shifting, Kame’s legs unfolding from the couch in front of him, and soon one arm is wrapped around his shoulders and the other around his waist, and he gets pulled up into the tightest, warmest hug. He can feel Kame’s fingertips fluttering in his hair, and a light kiss against his neck, and his arms are soft and strong. Perfect. Just what he needed.

It’s good that Kame isn’t stupid. Most of the time.

He leans into the embrace and feels the knots in his stomach starting to unwind. Kame is good at this too, this holding thing. Even like this, when he looks like he’s been run over by a truck, he still feels good, holding Jin like this. Jin wishes he’d had the balls to try this sooner. Could have saved them all a lot of trouble, not even just these last few weeks.

When Kame starts to pull back, Jin tightens his fingers in Kame’s t-shirt to keep him from going too far, pressing another quick kiss against his jaw, and Kame breathes a laugh. A nice one.

“Is this nice enough?” Kame asks, still holding him close.

“Hmmm,” Jin murmurs, sweeping eyes over his face. “Heading in the right direction.”

“What else can I do for you?” Kame says. He strokes a lock of hair away from Jin’s forehead, running fingertips softly down along Jin’s cheek.

Jin hovers there for a moment, just on the edge. He could say “get me a beer” or “give me a blowjob.” He could pull back and let Kame off the hook, tell him it’s fine and they’re cool, find his pants and his coat and leave Kame to get some sleep. He must be exhausted. Jin isn’t even the one who’s been sick these past few weeks, and he’s exhausted.

But something stops him. He doesn’t want to just let it go, go back to the way things were and move on. He doesn’t _want_ to.

“You could buy me dinner next time,” he says.

There’s a flicker of surprise in Kame’s eyes, so sharp Jin almost wants to take it back, climb down off the ledge. What if it’s too far…?

“Next time?” Kame breathes.

He doesn’t think that’s a no. It doesn’t sound like a no.

“If you want. I mean, if you’re interested,” Jin says, trying not to fumble too much over the words, but he’s pretty sure Kame can feel the tremor in his fingertips. He’s not good at this kind of thing, playing it cool. “I’d be interested.”

Kame seems at a loss for words. Just as well, because he kisses Jin instead.

* * *

Kame makes a few good points about paparazzi and public sex dates, so in the end they agree that Kame should cook Jin dinner instead. It’s not a bad tradeoff because Kame is an amazing cook—and in any case when the evening rolls around Jin is too nervous to eat very much anyway. That, and he figures it’s probably not a good idea to stuff himself.

He notices Kame eating in small portions as well, and is slightly weirded out to find that a turn-on.

Kame offers dessert out of courtesy, but Jin can see that neither one of them is particularly interested in that at the moment. “Maybe later?” he says, slightly awkwardly, and they both smile and glance away—Jin fiddling with his drink while Kame fusses over the dishes.

When the table is cleared, Kame leads the way into the bedroom and lets Jin spread himself out on top of the comforter. The bed is much nicer than the bathmat—Kame has very fluffy sheets.

“This is a lot better than the floor,” Jin says, squirming a little further into the mattress to make room for Kame’s knee. Kame freezes and looks up quickly, like he’s not sure how to take that. Whoops.

“The floor was okay!” Jin says in a rush, reaching out to brush his fingers over the hem of Kame’s shirt, tug just a little to get him moving again. “I just… I meant this is nicer. Your sheets are really nice. That’s all I meant.”

Kame nods, letting out a breath. “Good,” he says with a faltering little smile as he settles down beside him the rest of the way—close, but not quite on top of him, just one leg resting chastely over Jin’s thigh.

It seems much more real all of a sudden—the bed, the sheets, the way Kame can’t quite seem to look him in the eye for more than a second or two, doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands or how much to lean over him. Everything happened so fast the last time, and Jin didn’t have to— there was nothing to do. Kame knew what he wanted, and all Jin had to do was let him have it. Now Kame looks almost as apprehensive as Jin is, and Jin isn’t sure how he’s supposed to move things along.

He lifts up the hand that’s on Kame’s side, strokes fingers along the small of Kame’s back, over the smooth tailored shirt. He looks really good like this, stylish but slightly rumpled, shirt unbuttoned far enough at the collar that Jin can see through to where the muscles are tense, holding him up. Kame meets his eyes again and takes the cue, stroking a hand down along Jin’s side until it rests on his stomach, fingertips just brushing the waistband of Jin’s jeans. _Kiss me_, Jin thinks, and then Kame does.

It’s soft and sweet. Slow, just the way Jin likes, getting warmer, a little huff of breath in between. Kame’s fingers move slightly against Jin’s stomach, brushing up to his ribcage and stroking back and forth, a little soothing motion.

Kame is a great kisser. Jin kept getting distracted from that before, with all the grabbing and pulling. Not that the grabbing and pulling was bad—if he’s honest with himself it’s probably the reason he’s here, he never would have found out he wanted this if Kame hadn’t taken the initiative.

But this, this is really nothing like before. Kame isn’t pushy or demanding, doesn’t pull Jin’s hair or grope anywhere even slightly suggestive, or press him down into the mattress. Even after it’s been going on for a while, they’re still barely touching—Kame doesn’t sink down on him or try to press his advantage, doesn’t try to entangle them further or find his way inside Jin’s clothes. Even when Jin tries to give him a little nudge, a little press in the small of his back, and bends his knee out a little further to show Kame there’s room, it’s okay, he can keep going, Kame still seems to be holding himself sort of… still. Away. Like he doesn’t even _want_—

Oh fuck. Oh god, oh fuck, what if…

Jin feels a panicked sweat break out at the back of his neck, and he wants to shove the thought away—because that can’t be it, he knows it can’t—but it’s there now, and it’s got a grain of truth to it. Kame was out of his mind. Not that that’s all there was to it, he knows that—he’s always known, it was a thing—but what if… what if all of that was like, _before_, some long-ago thing, and the crazy just brought it out of him again, and now… And Jin, it’s not like he’s some kind of gay sex expert or whatever, he’s really not bringing much to this table besides his inherent hotness, and if it turns out Kame is not really as into Jin’s hotness now as he was when he was crazy that would be—oh _god_…

“Jin,” Kame says quietly, and his hand is stroking along Jin’s cheek. He’s not kissing Jin anymore, and he’s still just sort of leaning over him, but now he’s kind of frowning and looking concerned, like he thinks maybe he’s stepped on a landmine, oh fuck. “Jin, are you okay?”

“Are you not into me anymore?” Jin blurts out, fingers clenching in the hem of Kame’s shirt. And okay, there was probably a better way to go about bringing that up, but Jin is on the verge of a full-blown panic attack here, and he really just needs to know.

“What?” Kame says.

“You’re just…” Jin fumbles—oh god, words, he can’t. “You’re all, like, not… jumping on me, or whatever, like… before. And I don’t… are you into this?”

Kame lets out a surprised breath. “Of course,” he says, leaning down and kissing Jin again, still sweetly, but a little bit firmer. “I am totally into this.”

Jin wants to believe that. He really wants to, but Kame is still… and he _would_ say that, of course he would… “But you’re being so—and I know you were crazy before, but—”

Kame reaches over for Jin’s free hand and pulls it across, pressing Jin’s palm against the front of Kame’s jeans, where there’s a very firm bulge. Kame’s eyes fall closed for a moment before he manages to look at Jin again. Jin shuts up.

“I promise you,” Kame says, his voice a bit lower, softer. “I’m into this.”

Jin nods back at him, his hand still held against Kame’s cock. Swallows. “Good,” he says.

Kame loosens his grip again and lets Jin have his hand back. Jin keeps it close though, shifting it to Kame’s hip to keep him close too.

“What’s wrong then?” Jin asks. “Are you still feeling sick or something?”

Kame shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong, I just…” He glances down at Jin’s collarbone, seeming to be searching for words. Or maybe that’s just nerves.

Maybe Kame is nervous too. Interesting.

“I don’t remember the last time,” Kame says finally, looking up at him again with a slightly pained expression, like he doesn’t really want to remind Jin of that fact. “Even some of what came before… it’s all jumbled up in my head, and I don’t know what you really liked and what I just imagined you liked because I was insane, and some of it wasn’t even real, and I… I just. I don’t know.”

Kame drops his gaze to somewhere around Jin’s chin, thumb stroking absently at the side of Jin’s neck. “I mean, one day you were absolutely dead-set against the whole concept of guy-on-guy sex, even under life and death circumstances, and then suddenly you were apparently _into_ it, and I don’t know… I don’t understand what changed. And I don’t want to do the wrong thing and make you hate it again.”

Oh. Ohhh, okay. Yeah, no, that makes complete… yeah.

“I don’t really know what changed either,” Jin says, a little bit apologetic. Kame looks back at him slightly helplessly, and Jin figures he should probably at least try to explain. “It snuck up on me too. I thought the idea of guy-on-guy sex would totally freak me out, but then when it actually started happening—when you actually started putting the moves on me—it didn’t so much. I mean, it did a _little_ bit, but not enough to make me want to stop. And I really don’t think you need to worry about doing the wrong thing, or whatever. I mean, you were pretty all over me when you were crazy, and that only made me more…”

Uh, whoops. Maybe not explain quite that much.

But Kame is already looking curious. “Made you more what?”

Kame pulling his hair and pressing him up against cupboards, Kame on the floor between his legs, Kame in his mind while he touched himself, fucked himself.

Oh god, he can’t…

But. Kame doesn’t remember. Kame can’t know for himself, and he… he _needs_ to.

“I liked it,” Jin says, quietly. “I liked… the way you held me, how much you wanted me. I liked your mouth on me. I even…”

He can’t say it. His ears are burning as it is, and yes it felt good, but he didn’t think he would actually have to say it out loud.

But Kame’s weight is sinking a little heavier against him now, and he can feel that bulge against his hip. Kame won’t think it’s weird. Kame should know. Kame needs to understand. They won’t get past this if he doesn’t understand.

“What?” Kame prompts him, still quiet and low, and Jin can hear the want underneath, a little rasp of _let me fuck you_.

“I got off on it,” he murmurs. “After that time when you blew me, later on, I wanted… I wanted to know what it would feel like. If I could maybe do what you needed me to do. Let you… you know. So I tried it, just with my— by myself. And I got off on it.” There’s a shudder down his spine as he breathes the words out, and Kame dips his head, hot breath against Jin’s neck, and then his lips, kissing and sucking and pressing closer. Good.

“Jin,” Kame says, and it surprises him with how raw it sounds, how desperate. Makes it easier somehow, and Jin closes his eyes and stretches his neck to give Kame better access. Lets Kame’s hands stroke down his sides. Yes. Good.

“I really did want to help you,” Jin says, as Kame kisses his way along his jaw. Not even listening to himself, just listening to Kame, feeling the way it makes him press his hips against Jin’s and send a jolt through Jin’s growing erection. “I didn’t think it would actually feel that good.”

Kame rolls fully on top of him then and kisses him harder, sliding a hand up underneath Jin’s shirt like he’s trying to shut him up and keep him going all at once. Jin lets him take, steals breath when he can manage, runs his hands down over the firm muscles of Kame’s back. Yes. Good. _This_.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve gotten off thinking of you,” Kame says, low, against Jin’s lips. Another little kiss, and a pause. “Does that freak you out?”

Jin shakes his head, reaching up for another kiss. “Tell me.”

Kame breathes a laugh. “Not sure where to start.”

“The first time,” Jin says. “What did you want the first time?”

Kame’s fingers are in his hair now, and they tighten slightly as he kisses over Jin’s cheekbone. “I wanted to get on my knees and suck you off in the dressing room.”

Jin lets out a hard breath, slides his hands up underneath the back of Kame’s shirt. It only goes so far, pulling tight at the buttons—too many fucking buttons. Too many clothes, the belt is in the way. “You could do that,” Jin says, pushing at Kame’s belt, trying to expose a little more skin.

“Later on it was you on your knees,” Kame says, against the shell of his ear. It sends a tremor through him, the image mingling with Kame’s grip on his hair, and Jin’s pants are definitely feeling uncomfortably tight now.

“I could do that too,” he says, the words sticking slightly to the sides of his throat. He sort of almost wants to try it now. Wants Kame to ask him to. Wants Kame to make him.

Okay that’s… new. Maybe getting a little ahead of himself, but that’s… hmm.

Kame pushes up slightly, looking down at him with a deep wanting stare, his shirt much more rumpled and his mouth thoroughly kissed. He runs his tongue over his lips, hesitating just a moment, though Jin’s not sure he would even see it if he weren’t so close. “Right now I want you naked,” he says, eyes flicking down over Jin’s body and then up again, like he’s not sure that was okay. Jin nods, best he can do when he’s trying to keep his brain together and not just pull Kame back on top of him.

“I’m good with that,” Jin says.

Before Jin can make a move to start taking his clothes off, Kame sits up a little further and reaches for the buttons on Jin’s shirt—starts undoing them one by one, half watching Jin and half watching what he’s doing, pushing the fabric aside as he goes. Jin settles into it and lets Kame keep working, lets him watch. When the shirt is out of the way and Kame reaches for his fly, Jin presses his lips together and lets out a breath.

He feels the tug of the zipper and the brush of knuckles over his erection, turns his face away and breathes into it. Stays open. Kame’s hand strokes him a bit more deliberately over his shorts, and Jin has to bite his lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

There’s a little pull, a shift as Kame slides the jeans and the underwear down over Jin’s hips, a cool rush as his dick comes free. He watches Kame push the jeans off the rest of the way and get rid of his own shirt and pants before settling back down on his knees in between Jin’s legs.

“I want to put my mouth on you,” Kame says, stroking a hand lazily over Jin’s dick, his palm flat against Jin’s stomach.

Jin nods quickly, trying not to squirm for more friction. “That’s cool, I liked that.”

Kame shakes his head and makes the stroke a bit firmer once, in indication. “Not like that,” he says. And then his other hand strokes down in between Jin’s legs, further back. “Here,” he says, circling slowly.

Jin blinks at him for a moment, not quite catching up. “Why?” he says, a bit bewildered, before he can think of a better way to put it.

Kame breathes a laugh. “Because it feels good. You’ll like it.”

_I am totally not doing that_, Jin thinks. _I can maaaybe learn to suck a dick, but that is definitely, 100% no_. But even so, he has to admit the idea of Kame doing something like that to him is… interesting. And if Kame is up for it…

Kame bends down in between Jin’s knees and gives him a long lick up the underside of Jin’s dick, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Please?” Kame says, with only a tiny trace of that evil smirk he usually saves for concerts. His finger is still circling back there, and there isn’t enough moisture for it to start feeling good, but it’s enough to make Jin start to want it to feel good. Want more.

Jin nods against the pillow. “Sure, if you want,” he breathes.

“Turn over,” Kame instructs.

Jin does as he’s told, rolls to the side and shifts his legs around, letting them part around Kame’s knees as he settles onto his stomach. Kame doesn’t leave him alone for long, reaches out and strokes his hands down over Jin’s lower back and hips. When the heels of his palms dig in a little bit, spread him gently, Jin draws in a shaky breath.

“You still good?” Kame asks again as he brushes the pad of his thumb lower, between. Jin feels warm and cold all over, the air alive against his skin. He’s not even sure what to expect—it could be good, but it could be strange—but he trusts Kame, knows he’ll stop if Jin starts to freak out. Kame can make it good for him.

“I’m good,” Jin says, nodding into the comforter. “Don’t stop.”

“Good,” Kame says, a slow circle with the pad of his thumb—and then there’s a shift, weight and air and arms coming down on Jin’s thighs. Then a breath, and it’s hot, warm, wet, right _there_, and Jin shudders and squirms, his cock pressed tight between his stomach and the mattress.

Kame’s mouth. Kame’s tongue on his—_in_. Oh god, oh fuck, how does that feel so—Jin can’t breathe. He writhes against the mattress, the pressure on his dick not even enough, but still somehow too much with Kame there between his thighs, his tongue opening him up. It’s so—oh god—he can’t stop shivering. The feeling and the sounds, and he’s trying not to imagine what he looks like, but the thought of Kame like _that_ is just... so completely fucking dirty and unbelievably, undeniably hot.

Jin moans into the sheets when Kame’s fingertips spread him further and his tongue circles again, inside. Wants _more_. Deeper.

“Kame,” he moans into the sheets, tilting his hips up until something dips inside him again. _Yes_. He doesn’t even know if that’s Kame’s tongue or his fingers or whatever, but it’s fucking amazing. Kame was so right.

“Fuck me,” he breathes. “Oh god, please fuck me.” He can’t breathe, can’t get the angle deep enough, far enough. There’s another lick, a slow one, his nerves are on fire…

There’s a stuttering breath against the back of his thigh, and Kame’s fingers curling, gripping tight for a moment. Another lick, a surprise, and he flinches into it with a sharp sound.

“You want me to fuck you now?” Kame asks, a warm breath over Jin’s skin. There’s a little quiver of uncertainty underneath, and Jin’s not sure why until he continues. “Like this?”

Jin’s on his stomach, face pressed into the mattress, and—but, yeah, fucking whatever, he doesn’t care, he just needs it. This is good, this is easier, he needs it _now_.

Jin nods into the comforter, trying to catch his breath. “Yes. Now.”

The mattress shifts again, and there’s a drawer, a tearing of foil. Jin keeps his eyes closed and feels Kame moving in the space between Jin’s legs. He doesn’t have to do anything. Kame will tell him if he has to do anything.

Soon Kame’s hands are back on his hips, slightly cool and sticky between his fingers. He pulls up a bit, and Jin goes, tilts his hips upward and pulls his knees in, till he’s right where Kame wants him. It feels a little bit shaky all of a sudden, more exposed than he was expecting given he’s already naked and about to be fucked one way or another. But Kame’s right there, Kame’s going to take care of everything—and it will feel good, just like before. Kame’s got him.

There’s a little jolt of panic when he feels the head of Kame’s cock bump up against him, slick and solid and—oh god, more than he remembers. Pushing in, spreading him wider, so much wider than Kame’s tongue, and Jin takes a couple of shallow breaths and tries to slow it all down, just breathe through it. Remember this is the hardest part. It’s not bad if he can just stay calm, stay where Kame’s hands keep him.

There’s a stifled groan above him when it slips, the head snugly inside, and that gives him a shiver—thinking of what Kame must be feeling right now, what he sees. “Jin,” it comes on a gasp, half whispered, Jin’s not even sure if it’s for him. “You okay?”

He sounds splintered, balanced off kilter on a high wire, like the grip he has on Jin’s hips is his grip on the world, and he’s trying not to fall off.

Jin nods into the sheets. “I’m good, keep going.”

There’s another harsh breath, and then a deeper slide, _deep_, but that’s what he remembers. One thrust, another, and Jin breathes out a _yes_, just to let Kame know this is good. This is what he wanted, it feels good, keep going.

Kame takes the hint. He picks up the pace, his grip getting firmer and his thrusts a little harder, a little faster. Jin’s erection has gone slightly soft during all the maneuvering, but now it’s coming back, and if Kame can just keep this up, if he can get a little more of an angle… he needs a hand on his cock, _now_…

He pulls down his elbow and squirms his arm underneath him, reaching up and back until he’s got himself in his grip—and it’s intense all of a sudden, sensation there while Kame’s fucking him from behind, the extra little shudder of Kame’s thrusts pushing his grip off kilter, making him lose the rhythm here and there.

Eventually Kame’s fingertips brush over his arm, gripping at his elbow and slowing them to a stop. Jin is so hard he almost sobs, _don’t stop, fuck me harder…_

“Let me,” Kame says. Half request, half order.

But Jin is all for following orders at this point, and relinquishes his grip. Kame shifts his knees forward a bit and wraps an arm around Jin’s chest—pulls him up until his back is pressed up against Kame’s chest and he’s nearly sitting in Kame’s lap. It pushes Kame deeper, and Jin’s head falls back onto Kame’s shoulder. He doesn’t care what he looks like anymore, he just needs Kame to touch him, right now.

Kame strokes a hand down Jin’s front and wraps it around the shaft of Jin’s dick. Jin can’t help himself, can’t stop himself from thrusting into it, and—oh fuck, it’s so much more intense like this, when Kame starts rolling his hips upward again, and Jin can’t do anything, can’t breathe, can’t move without it sending shockwaves through him, winding him tighter and tighter. Oh god, oh fuck, he can’t—

He cries out as it washes over him, tightening him around Kame and making that more intense too, Kame’s hand still moving, riding him out until he’s shivering and spent, empty. “Fuck,” Jin breathes, leaning heavily back against Kame’s chest. His legs feel like jelly, he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to be able to stand again.

“You’re amazing,” Kame says into his shoulder, letting Jin slip from his fingers and running fingertips over his stomach. Jin huffs out a weak laugh, but he can’t make words, his brain is having some kind of electrical fire.

Kame’s dick is still very hard. No doubts now about the potency of Jin’s hotness.

As soon as Jin has the strength to move again, he leans forward and lets his shoulders sink into the bed again, leaving the way clear for Kame to finish. “Go for it,” he says. “I’m good, let me have it.”

Kame’s hands stroke over his back again, and Jin gets the strange, fuzzy feeling that he’s just enjoying the view. It doesn’t feel bad like he would have guessed. Not with Kame.

Soon there’s a slide again. Another, and another, and Kame really must have been wound up by making Jin come, because this feels almost rawer, more demanding than the first time—but Jin is totally cool, Jin’s got this one, he can be amazing and naked and let Kame get him off, let Kame fuck him into the mattress and make those sounds, hold his hips in the air. Why the fuck not? It feels good.

Kame makes a strangled sound, and a couple of jagged thrusts before it’s there, he can feel it—the grip of Kame’s fingertips and the deep, and Kame fucking needs him. Still wants him. Always has.

Totally worth it.

There’s a deep sigh, and Jin feels the slip and slide as Kame backs off, rolls down onto the mattress. Jin lets his knees stretch out again and watches Kame fumble off the condom, tie a knot in it and drop it out of sight somewhere. His limbs are flung out in all directions and his hair sticks to his flushed face. He looks amazing. Even like this, he looks amazing. Jin isn’t sure why he never saw it before.

Maybe he just wasn’t looking right. Seeing the world through fear-colored glasses.

“That was really awesome,” Jin says.

Kame laughs and glances over at him, eyes sweeping over the line of Jin’s body stretched out over the mattress. “I think that’s still going to take some getting used to.”

“What, fucking me?”

Kame shakes his head. “You not going all straightboy on me again after I fuck you. Even in my head, that was… hard to imagine.”

“Oi,” Jin protests, poking him in the side. “Some of us take longer to figure this shit out than others, okay?”

“I know, I know,” Kame laughs, rolling over and pushing at Jin until he’s on his back again, Kame’s body pinning him to the mattress. Even like this, with their dicks no longer in play and the pressure off, it feels nicer than Jin would have expected. Cozy. “I’m just saying it will take some getting used to, is all. When the guy you thought you could never have suddenly turns out to be into dick, it’s a pretty major shift.”

Jin is half tempted to dig his fingers into Kame’s ribs and throw him off again for the smugness—but there’s something underneath it that stops him, makes him want to wrap his arms around Kame’s waist and curl up into the warmth of him.

The guy you thought you could never have, huh.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says instead, running fingertips into Kame’s hair. “I mean, when there’s this guy who’s wanted you all this time, and it turns out you want him too, it’s also kind of a major shift.”

Something sparks warm and bright in Kame’s eyes, and then the smile goes deep. Jin only feels wobbly for a moment or two before Kame leans down and kisses him softly. That goes deep too.

His arms pull tight around Jin’s shoulders, and he feels solid and warm and himself again. Himself, but better. Jin can feel the glow radiating off him in waves, and every time he looks at Jin it’s like Jin invented baseball and puppies and squid ink soup. Jin could stay like this for a long time.

“Want some dessert now?” Kame says, low and soft, still warm inside and out. “I have cake.”

Jin grins. “I always want cake. Do I have to put my pants back on?”

“Only if you want to sit on any of my furniture.”

Jin narrows eyes up at him. “I’m not allowed to be all straightboy anymore, but you’re still allowed to be a prissy little bitch?”

Kame pats him on the chest. “Them’s the breaks, Akanishi.” Then he kisses him again, and Jin is pretty sure he could wheedle sitting-on-sofas-naked rights in a heartbeat if he tried. “But I provide cake and blowjobs, so I think it’s a pretty good trade.”

Jin sighs as Kame rolls up off of him and goes to hunt through drawers for some sweatpants. He’s not wrong, but Jin won’t tell him that. Yet.


End file.
